


The Long Way 'Round

by missmichellebelle



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Meet-Cute, Public Transportation, Romance, Trains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 12:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris had very much expected to spend his trip alone. He did not expect to to enter his room and find someone else sitting in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Long Way 'Round

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Invisible Thread Project](http://invisiblethreadproject.tumblr.com/) over on tumblr.
> 
> I have no idea if this is even possible, but hey. It's an AU. Artistic license and what-not. You can check out their train route [here](http://www.amtrak.com/ccurl/645/1007/Southwest-Chief-Schedule-031013,0.pdf), and if you want to know what their "roommette" looks like, that's [here](http://www.amtrak.com/servlet/ContentServer?c=AM_Accommodation_C&pagename=am%2FLayout&cid=1241210576173). This didn't turn out quite like I wanted it to, but I lost steam on the idea, unfortunately. :c Hopefully what I managed to give you guys isn't god-awful.
> 
> Title from Anna Kendrick's "Cups."

It's nearly a two day trip by train, but Chris books it anyway. He books it even though the entire trip would take a tenth of the time if he paid for a plane ticket, and even though (with a room) it ends up being twice as expensive. He books it even though Ashley tries to convince him to spend the extra forty or so hours with her instead. He books it even though, at the end of the day, it's impulsive and a little crazy.

He books it because his life is starting to feel monotone, and because he's never taken a train before, and doesn't life need little crazy, impulsive things once in awhile? Chris isn't exactly the sort of person who's about to get a tattoo for the hell of it. No, he's the sort of person who takes a train rather than an airplane, and promises himself to eventually do all the crazy things he thinks about (like sky diving, or rock climbing, or speed dating).

Besides, nearly two days to himself is probably the best way for him to end his week-long vacation. He loves Ashley, but a week with her isn't exactly what Chris would call relaxing. Two days of horrible phone service, crappy wi-fi, and an empty word document open on his laptop while the continental US rushes by outside a window sounds like a great way to clear his head.

*

The first thing Chris notes is that his train is _nothing_ like the Hogwarts Express, which is incredibly disappointing. Then again, this isn't Europe, so maybe he should have expected as much. The nerves that generally accompany him when he travels are lessoned by the fact that there isn't any security for him to pass through, and he doesn't have to check any luggage. Both his seat and his "roommette" are already pre-assigned, and so he doesn't feel any apprehension about having to possibly stand on a train for the next two days due to lack of seating.

That would be sort of awful.

Despite having said goodbye to his best friend an hour ago, he's feeling pretty okay. Chris has no idea when he'll get the chance to see Ashley again—they both work, and vacation days aren't exactly plentiful for either of them—but he's actually humming a little under his breath as he adjusts his duffle over his shoulder and squeezes past people on the way to his room.

He knows he has a seat, but he doesn't see the point in sitting in a communal car when he also has a seat shut behind a door. After all, he plans on sticking in head phones and writing for the most part, and he prefers to be alone for that.

Checking his ticket, he finds his door and feels some of the tension leak out of his shoulders. He doubts he'll sleep well the next two nights, and he has no idea how good train food is, and he can't remember the last time he went more than 24 hours without a steady internet connection, but he's ready to tackle all of those things.

It feels silly, really, but all adventurers start small, right?

He'll just keep telling himself that.

Intent on reclining his chair and perhaps taking a nap (when was the last time he took a _nap_ in the middle of the afternoon?), he enters his "roommette" with the already lowered expectations that it won't be anything like those train compartments in movies. So he's quite surprised when the one expectation that he'd had, albeit subconsciously, is immediately nullified.

Chris had very much expected to spend his trip alone. He did not expect to to enter his room and find someone else sitting in it.

*

His name is Darren. He's not a squatter, or a seat-stealer—he has a ticket, just like Chris's, except it has a "B" on it instead of an "A." It's not his first time on the Southwest Chief 3, but only the second time he's booked a room rather than just roughing it in the regular seats.

"You'd be surprised how much a shitty bed makes a difference for two nights. Or, you know, privacy."

Chris bites his tongue, and doesn't say that it's hardly privacy for Chris when he has to share what was supposed to be his own little room with someone he's never met before.

But Chris has to remind himself that this whole thing isn't Darren's fault. It's the train's, or the conductor's, or Amtrak's, or whoever (or whatever) assigns seats and rooms. He just needs to go and talk to someone, explain the misunderstanding, and then everything will be fine. It will all work out, just like he planned it.

He excuses himself with a polite smile and a mumbled excuse, and Darren gives him a friendly grin before popping in a set of earbuds and turning to stare out the window.

Unfortunately, Chris's best hopes are dashed after he finally manages to find and speak to a conductor (and the term is a constant reminder to Chris that he's on an _actual_ train).

There are no other rooms available—the train is booked solid. The conductor apologizes in that way where they aren't really sorry for the mix-up; he talks in a professional but slightly rushed and clipped tone, saying that he's sorry for the misunderstanding on _Chris's_ part. Because, apparently, a room for a single rider would have cost twice as much as Chris's current ticket (which is already expensive, and Chris is justifying it as the cost for an experience).

The only thing the conductor offers him is the option to downgrade his ticket to just his assigned seat, at the expense of the other passenger to cover up the additional funds, or to detrain and receive a full refund (and still leave the rest of the expense of the room to the other passenger). Both options, frankly, _suck_ , and Chris knows he could easily just take the refund, use it to buy a plane ticket, and be done with it.

But his conscience gets the best of him. Chris thinks of Darren, the random stranger he'll be holed up with for the next two days, and just leaving him with several extra hundreds of dollars to pay for. It just doesn't sit right with him.

The conductor taps his foot, waiting impatiently for Chris to make a decision and soundly sealing Chris's decision to never take a train _again_ if all conductors are so rude. Chris thanks him (for absolutely _nothing_ ), and then turns around to head back to his seat.

It's only two days, and it's not really all that different from sitting next to a stranger on an airplane. There's no rule that says they have to talk to each other, and if Chris finds it difficult to sleep, well… He could just go sleep in the chair that's reserved for him elsewhere on the train.

Or he could just not sleep. It wouldn't be the first time.

The train jerks into motion beneath him, and he braces his hand on the corridor wall, staring down at the horribly carpeted floor. Chris isn't a stranger to traveling, but this isn't like being on an airplane or a passenger in a car. He feels some of that little-boy excitement return, curling in his stomach and dissipating some of the raw frustration he's carrying around.

He reminds himself that it won't be so bad.

*

When Chris slides the door to the compartment open, the way Darren's head snaps up (as if Chris had startled him) nearly scares Chris. He'd sort of been hoping that Darren would be the kind of guy who'd put in his headphones and proceed to ignore Chris for the next however-many hours, but when Darren is immediately tugging the cords dangling down from his ears, Chris realizes he has no such luck.

"You're back." Darren both looks and sounds surprised. Chris stares at him quizzically.

"I sit here," he reminds Darren, speaking slowly as if he's talking to a child, and gestures toward the empty seat. With a shot of dismay, Chris realizes that he'll be facing in the opposite direction from the way the train is traveling. _Great_. He hopes he doesn't get sick.

Darren laughs—a quick, bright sound—and gestures with his hand in a way that means _obviously_.

"I know that. I just figured you went to sit in your other seat." Darren shrugs, and the smile he gives Chris is open, kind, and friendly. "Since you didn't seem thrilled about having to sit with me."

Chris blanches, and Darren stares at him steadily, but his smile doesn't become wry or biting. It doesn't change at all.

Averting his eyes, Chris shuffles to sit down, choosing to stare out the window and deal with the slight dizziness he feels rather than look straight across at Darren. Especially when he has no idea how to refute Darren's statement. Is he really that easy to read?

"There's no way you could know that," Chris finally says, after staying silent far too long. Even if what Darren said wasn't true in the slightest, it wouldn't matter—anything Chris could say after that much silence would sound like a lie either way.

"Aside from the fact that you practically bolted out of here?" There's amusement in Darren's voice. "You won't even look at me, dude."

Chris looks then, and Darren still has the same look on his face. Chris doesn't get it. If it was him, he'd feel offended, and probably hurt. And it's that fact, paired with the genuine warmth behind Darren's eyes, that makes the guilt bloom hot and heavy in Chris's gut. 

 _This isn't his fault_ , he reminds himself.

His eyes flick away again, in shame, before meeting Darren's again.

"I'm sorry—"

But Darren holds up his hand.

"It's cool, really. I mean, if you were like some guy who hadn't showered in a week, I wouldn't be too happy to share with you, either."

"…is that your way of telling me you haven't showered in a week?"

"Oh god, _no_ , just that—you know, I get it. We're strangers. It's not like you _have_ to like me." Darren blinks, and then makes a face that's gone nearly as fast as it happens. "It'd be awesome if you did, though. Not big on the whole enemies thing."

"Friend or enemy? Those are my options?" Chris can't help but smile a little, the sides of his mouth curling up of their own accord.

"Basically." Darren looks around surreptitiously, even though they're the only ones there, before leaning forward into the empty space separating them. "But between you and me, friends?" Darren's eyes grow earnest very, very suddenly. "They get meals courtesy of me."

"Bribery now." And this time Chris laughs, just a little bit, and Darren grins like he's just won some sort of prize. It draws Chris up a bit short, and he looks away, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter. That was… Weird. "Besides, the meals are included with our tickets."

"Still on me," Darren insists, and Chris can see his reflection in the window as he rolls his eyes, hand covering his mouth to keep himself from grinning.

*

The dining car isn't what he expects a dining car to look like, and he's not sure why that fact still surprises him considering how lackluster the rest of the train has been so far. There's nothing fancy about it at all, aside from decor lamps that dot the tables as some sort of last dodge effort. But Darren leads them to a table like they've just entered the swankiest of LA restaurants, and Chris doesn't think about the fact that he somehow got talked into an early dinner with a stranger. An attractive stranger. An attractive stranger he's sharing a very small space with.

No, he doesn't think about it.

He makes sure to snag the seat that won't make his vertigo any worse, and is a little surprised there are actually menus. In fact, despite the uncomfortable bench-like seating and the clearly laminate table, it's a pretty nice place to sit, what with the darkening landscape out the window rushing past. It's strangely peaceful and nearly beautiful—there isn't much Chris finds beautiful about sprawling, darkening expanses of land. To him, city sprawl is beautiful, the glow of a thousand lights like a galaxy nestled in a valley or reflected off the ocean.

But he can still appreciate this. As a writer, he tries to appreciate everything.

The menus hold what can't even be considered a variety of dinner options, but they have diet coke so Chris is satisfied. Once that's out of the way, he looks out the window again to avoid thinking about the strange situation he's in.

Any way he slices it, it's strange. If he was home in LA, and Darren had been some stranger there—well, Chris doesn't know. He's _looked_ at Darren; it's not like he'd want to say no. But Chris says no to a lot of things, to a lot of chances, to a lot of starts to what would have made wonderful stories, he's sure.

Maybe that's what he should think of this as. He had wanted a little adventure, after all—something a little crazy, a little impulsive. Maybe getting dinner with a stranger could just fall under that broadly-cast net.

"So." Darren claps his hands together. "You leaving or returning?"

Chris blinks at him for a second, before he understands the question.

"Oh, I'm—I was visiting a friend in Chicago, so I guess I'm returning." Chris hadn't really thought that some of these people might call Chicago or its surrounding areas home.

"LA?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Cool." Darren smiles again. "Same. I was visiting some friends, too. Small world." He bops his head from side to side a bit. They lapse into silence, and Chris bites down on his lip, turning to look at the window as his fingers fiddle with the lamp just to have something to do. A spherical crystal prism hangs down on the pull-string, and he taps it back and forth, throwing the light of the sunset across the table in a rainbow spectrum.

It's actually more distracting than he'd intended.

For whatever reason, Darren doesn't seem surprised, offended, or even slightly put-off by Chris's inability to keep a conversation going. He spends a few seconds chasing the colored lights across the table with his fingers, his face lit up like a child's on Christmas, and the next thing Chris knows, he's grinning and it's turned into a game.

"What do you do, Chris?" Darren asks, fingers pausing over a wavering stretch of color before Chris shifts it somewhere else.

"Hmm?" Chris hums in response, still distracted.

"You know. For a living, for fun, under the covers at night where no one can see—"

The crystal clings loudly against the metal base of the lamp, and a few people at surrounding tables turn to look. Chris vaguely notices, mainly because he's a little busy gaping at Darren, feeling the entire upper half of his body flare red with embarrassment.

Darren winces, but the roguish grin that follows makes Chris doubt its sincerity.

"Too much?"

Chris doesn't answer, just picks up his glass of soda and takes three long gulps of it.

"Too much," Darren confirms without any acknowledgment from Chris. "The first two still stand, though. We can just come back to that last one later."

The way Darren looks at him makes something quiver low in Chris's abdomen.

"Are you flirting with me?" He blurts, before he can think about it, and is a little surprised he doesn't slap his hand over his mouth immediately afterwards.

"Um." Darren looks away, dipping his head. "Shit, sorry. Not if it… Makes you super fucking uncomfortable? We can just call it strangerly teasing."

"Strangerly teasing?"

"I wasn't under the impression we were friends yet," Darren explains with a shrug, and Chris responds with a throaty sound close to the word, "Ah."

"I—put that on the return-to-later list?" Chris stares down at the table, and he can feel his heart pounding in his ears as if it's suddenly taken up residence in his head.

"…the friends thing or the—"

"Both," Chris says quickly, and chances a glance at Darren to see him grinning. He doesn't say anything, but his eyes are practically writing novels and Chris can't stop reading them.

"But that doesn't answer my other two questions," Darren finally says, pointedly, and Chris laughs self-consciously.

"What were those again?"

*

"I'll be surprised if I don't end up with food poisoning," Chris says as they re-enter their roommette, frowning at the not-bad but not-good taste in his mouth. What did he expect from train food? It's not exactly gourmet service.

"Dude, on a train? That would _suck_." Darren gives him an appropriately abashed look. "Want me to find you a bucket?"

Chris glares at him, and Darren just laughs, flopping back into his seat.

"Do you have like… Paper? We should play a game."

"What kind of game?" Chris asks, sitting down and glad that it's dark out enough that he can't see the land rolling past. It makes sitting backwards a lot less awful.

"I don't know. Hangman? The dot-and-line game? Connect Four?"

"…Connect Four?"

"You can totally play Connect Four on paper, all right?"

Chris rolls his eyes and then closes them, both distracted and lulled by the motion of the train as it speeds and jerks down the track.

"I would have brought cards, but I didn't really expect… Well. Company." He opens his eyes again to see Darren watching him.

"Glad to be of service." Darren bends forward in his seat, as if he's bowing, and ends up smacking his head as the train gives a sudden jerk and starts to slow down. "Fucking hell."

"Wow, are you okay?" Chris asks, even as he's laughing. Darren sits up, one eye closed as he rubs at his forehead.

"Fucking trains," Darren mutters.

"Not nearly as glamorous as one would think," Chris adds, picking at the fabric that covers the chair. "And not nearly as exciting. There's not even a Hogwarts on the other side."

Darren's eyes sparkle.

"Not quite what you imagined, huh?"

Chris shrugs.

"Just probably a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Unless I ever have the opportunity to take a train in someplace like England or France. But Amtrak is probably never getting anymore of my money." Despite the fact that the train has at least one definite perk over any airplane Chris could have taken—Darren may have enhanced this trip immensely, but it just means every train trip Chris could hope to take in the future will just pale in comparison.

They might be going to the same place, and Darren might be flirty and interesting and seem to enjoy talking to Chris, but there's nothing saying that when the train pulls into LAX that they won't just go their separate ways.

A few hours ago, that would have seemed a completely normal course of action for two people randomly sharing a train compartment. Now, however, it makes Chris feel a little melancholy.

"Hey, never say never." Darren stretches his leg out until the tip of his shoe taps three times against the side of Chris's. "You still have a whole day on this baby. Things could change." Darren says it like he knows something, like there's a secret just past the contours of his smile and the look in his eyes that Chris _just_ can't get at.

But he likes the idea of that promise, can feel it trill up his spine, like Darren is holding out a gift that Chris can't unwrap just yet.

Chris returns the smile, and taps his foot back against Darren's.

"Yeah," he agrees, his voice surprisingly steady. "Yeah, I guess they could."


End file.
